Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

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Ramses
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Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

Post by Ramses » Fri Jul 13, 2018 9:22 pm

MADAGASCAR
In the old days, traveling to the far corners of the Earth would make a man a legend. Now, when one could be anywhere on the planet within 48 hours, journeying to exotic locales had lost its original luster to men like Ramsay Westing, currently lounging on a beach on the edge of the Indian Ocean. With money to spare, he had time to relax between his great exploits, vacationing in places most men had never even heard of.

A private island off the coast of Madagascar was perfect for a short getaway, and with only a few other renters present, he was free to relax alone. Presently, he lounged half-nude on a towel near the water, his skin drinking in the Sun's rays. Ocean breeze passed over his sculpted body, the product of obsessive training and inherited super-human genetics. A pair of black sunglasses rested on his nose; all around him, the beach was flat. Just the surf and the sand.

About 75 meters away was his rented beachhouse, where most of his belongings were, as well as the keys to a parked Lexus RS (also rented). At his side was a book that delved into the origins and influence of Blackwater, an American PMC. He allowed his eyes to close, the Sun high in the cloudless sky above.


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Quirbles
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Re: Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

Post by Quirbles » Sat Jul 14, 2018 1:05 am

”Nice place you got here.”

Ailyn Mendoza stared out of the lounge window, observing the encroaching tide upon the sands as the sun slowly began to fall earthbound; it could be considered evening, but there was still ample light out. She’d tried to time this outing with nightfall, but alas— too early, it seemed, and now she’d have to deal with the consequences.

Should she simply stay put until darkness and assassinate him in his sleep? No, that would take much too long; and besides, waiting required patience, and she—It— was a very impatient being. The culling would happen now.

Ailyn looked to the bag of gear sitting upon the couch beside her. In it were two machetes, a linked metal chain, her motorcycle keys and helmet; and one cellphone, which she’d use to photograph the occasion after all was said and done. The Immoral One loved savoring each moment like an infinity, each kill like the fondest memory. The Righteous One often made the deaths quick— this one, meanwhile, enjoyed Its trophies’ suffering. So it would be.

Withdrawing both machetes and the chain from her bag, Ailyn secured the bladed weapons in the two scabbards on either hip before wrapping the chain around her waist like a crudely-fashioned belt. Her motorcycle was parked inside the garage, out of sight. For a moment, she debated slashing the tires, but ultimately decided against it. A chase, she found, was much more... satisfying when concluded.

She was dressed in the same black leather bomber she always wore. Gloves obscured her permanently charred hands, while sunglasses helped obscure both the intense sunlight as well as a portion of her scarred face. If one were to look closely, however, one would be able to see the burning embers of the Immoral One’s eyes threatening to burn through the polarized lenses. Beneath a simple t-shirt and shorts was a bathing suit she decided to wear based simply on the fact that this was a private island— and hell, maybe when this was over, she’d celebrate.

Though her hair was usually shaved on her scarred side, she’d opted to grow out her haircut the last few months. It resulted in her looking, well, normal. Besides the scarred face, she might get away with calling herself pretty.

But she wasn’t looking to impress this fucker down on the beach. She was here to kill him and incinerate his corpse.

Standing up after all her gear was secured, Ailyn exited the beach house and made her way onto the sands. Though her footsteps were muffled by the sand, he might have been able to hear her; at this point, it didn’t matter either way. She’d stand a short distance away, short enough to close the gap and strike him, but not close enough to stand over his body and cover him with her shadow.

”Enjoying the sun?”
Last edited by Quirbles on Sat Jul 14, 2018 10:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

Post by Ramses » Sat Jul 14, 2018 5:07 pm


The Eternal Victor pressed down on one arm of his sunglasses with his thumb and forefinger, lowering the shades to look up at the woman. All at once, a flood of information rushed through his mind, processed simultaneously with superior acumen. Dark clothes, weapons at her sides; moderately attractive; scars which suggested experience. He smiled.

"Little hot," he remarked candidly, though from his tone, it wasn't clear whether he was referring to the Sun, the hitwoman herself, or her choice of clothing. Maybe all three.

There's no way she knows who I am. I'm too careful. She's here to murder Ramsay Westing, not the Great Ramses, he processed silently, a small smirk playing across his lips as he shifted ever so slightly up onto his left elbow, only somewhat drawing his muscles in to prepare to explode off the ground if need be. To an onlooker it would seem as though he simply sat more upright to get a better view of the lady.


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Re: Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

Post by Quirbles » Mon Jul 16, 2018 3:48 pm

"Mm." Ailyn grunted in response, taking her eyes of Ramsay for a moment to observe the waves crashing upon the shore. This small island was... immeasurably different than her regular sphere of operation. It was rare for Them to choose such a secluded target-- in Madagascar of all places-- but the borderline psychotic methods in which the beings within her worked was never something she questioned. To Them, she had no choice in the matter. And if she tried to refuse, there would be dire consequences.

"I hear people say that it's always the heat. Me, I... well, I've never been one to like the cold."

Truthfully, she could have worn a heavy parka out to this tropical island and it wouldn't have even made a distance. Just another one of the small human traits that They took away from her. Her body, her flesh reacts, but there isn't any pain. The charring of her extremities had occurred so often that her hands were just a blackened, scarred mess; still fully functional, and always hidden by the black gloves she had on. Her legs, thankfully, were often spared.

Ailyn didn't bother taking another step towards the man she came here to kill. Lowering her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, the burning embers of her red pupils were exposed for a moment; though, in the intense sunlight, they might have seemed like contacts above anything else.

"Ramsay Westing, is it? I'm sorry to say that I'm not here for an autograph, or to help you with... whatever it is you do to get a place like this. Though you already know that, right?"

Her stance tightened as the two machetes by her side were grasped at the handle. She took a step forward, now.

"Let's get this over with."

If he tried to run, tried to fight back-- it made no difference to her.

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Re: Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

Post by Ramses » Tue Jul 17, 2018 2:52 am



The way she talked betrayed confidence, experience, and ruthlessness. Her hands were on her weapons now, and in response, he pinched his sunglasses a little harder, knuckles tensing, his leg muscles contracting ever so slightly in preparation for what he'd do next. She'd finished talking. He smirked.

"Let's."

In one fluid motion, he sprang from where he lay back on the ground, spinning on one foot to an upright position; as he did so, he pulled his sunglasses from his face, using the momentum of his spin to hurl them with incredible force at the woman's head.

There were several advantages apparent to him. Firstly, he was unarmed and likely assumed to be a non-combatant, meaning the element of surprise was on his side; secondly, she likely did not know he was a superhuman. This meant that his fantastic burst of speed would be totally unexpected, as there was no way she might know he was truly Ramses. She'd have come with an assault chopper if she did.

Thus, he elected not to retreat and retrieve more gear, but to press his assault. The moment the sunglasses left his hand, he'd push off with his other foot, launching himself towards the black-gloved assassin as a lion would launch itself towards its prey. Rising up into the air with his arms outstretched, he sought to tackle her into the sand, the sheer force of his rapid movement enough to fragment bones.



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Re: Purge the Unholy [Closed IC]

Post by Quirbles » Wed Jul 18, 2018 3:50 am

The sunglasses had, to some extent, been expected. People had a habit of throwing whatever was around them when in an improvised fight, and Ailyn knew this well; what she wasn’t expecting was the sheer force behind the throw.

Her right machete had been raised from its scabbard as soon as Ramsay had even made the slightest movement past her last sentence. She’d leveled it, point outwards, just in time to catch the sunglasses directly on the face of the left lens. She’d effectively blocked the sunglasses from slamming into her face, but in the process had fractured the lens into sharpened fragments; these shards embedded themselves into the scarred side of her face, letting loose small rivulets of blood. Fucking hell. At least it wouldn’t scar too bad.

The sunglasses throw left little time for her to react to the follow-up by Ramsay; admittedly, she hadn’t expected him to move so fuckin’ quick. This man, whether it be owed to one aspect or another, certainly wasn’t normal. She made a note of this as the man slammed her into the sands, knocking the air out of her and heavily bruising her ribs. The demons had been nice enough to grant her a little extra durability— especially in the bones— but healing, besides her skeleton, was limited in its enhancement.

Hoping to disorient him enough to get him off of her, Ailyn curled her hands into fists; making sure that her middle knuckle was edged slightly out above the rest of her fingers, the woman attempted to slam her curled-up hands into Ramsay’s temples in order to, at the very least, minorly concuss him. She’d follow up with bringing her elbows down onto the top of his head for good measure before lifting her legs up with... surprising strength, owed to Them more than her workout regimen.

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